


Toy Soldiers

by ALMartin1011



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Captain America: The First Avenger, Gen, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, it could have happened, kinda sorta cannon compliant, sad Steve Rogers, steve doubts himself sometimes too, this one is pretty sad guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:35:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22295662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ALMartin1011/pseuds/ALMartin1011
Summary: Steve pushes himself to limit taking night watch while the rest of the Howling Commandos rest. This one is pretty dark, well for me at least. Perhaps the word bleak is more appropriate. Either way, don’t expect a happy ending. No one dies or is injured, it’s just freaking SAD.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	Toy Soldiers

**Author's Note:**

> Hello lovelies! I’m so sorry for all the sad feels ya’ll are about to have. This is what happens when ya girl picks a sad song prompt and writes while PMS’ing. Such is life! This prompt was the song Toy Soldiers by Martika for the amazing @captain-rogers-beard‘s One Hit Wonder Challenge over on Tumblr. Lyrics pulled directly from the song are in bold. This song just screamed Steve to me; he went through so much in his life going from a boy eager to serve to a jaded hero. I have to think he had his moments when it was all just too much. Nights when he really felt the weight of always doing the “right” thing taking its toll on him. And so, I give you a glimpse into one of those nights….

All is quiet on the western front. The moon is bright in the sky, making night watch easier for the tired soldier. Steve sips at the tin cup of coffee in his hands, eyes scanning the hills methodically. It’s almost 2am and he’s running on the scant few hours sleep he got three days ago. Even super soldiers have their limits and Steve is approaching his. His men sleep deeply in their tents, the kind of sleep that only comes after bone deep exhaustion.

_Just a little longer._ Steve thinks to himself. _Your men need rest more than you do, Rogers._

The wicked February wind is whipping up again as Steve drains the last of his cup in one long gulp. It’s bitter cold but thanks to the serum Steve knows it won’t affect him all that much. They have been on the road for two weeks moving to their new base. It shouldn’t be more than two more days away but the Commandos are starting to lag. Two weeks of constant movement, walking endlessly through ice and snow, it wears on them. Steve had put on his bravest face, the one he thinks of as his patriotic face, telling his men they’ll be to Champe Jaune before they know it. They’ll be warm, in real beds, with a strong drink in each hand and beautiful women all around them. Bucky can see right through his bravado but doesn’t call Steve on his bullshit. The rest of the Commandos need hope, they need something to cling to when their feet are aching and they’re so cold they can’t feel their noses or fingertips. 

The reality of the situation is, Steve doesn’t know. They were given the coordinates and the map to get to the northern town of Champe Jaune but they should have been there three days ago. Steve wants to think it was because they are moving slower through the rough weather they hit but there’s a gnawing feeling in his gut that they were given bad intel, that they’re wandering aimlessly through the merciless wilderness, dwindling down their rations with no sign of life on the horizon. Steve shakes himself at the catastrophic turn of his thoughts, they have the map and his compass has kept them on course. They just need a few more days and they’ll be there. 

It’s hard not to let his thoughts turn maudlin as he watches out in the distance for any threats that may come their way. He feels like he’s been running on empty since Azzano. They got their men back but none were quite the same. Bucky hasn’t been the same and it eats at Steve every time he catches the other man’s eyes. Where a bright, lively young man once was, a tired, jaded soldier now resides. **Only emptiness remains.** And Steve hopes for Bucky’s sake **it replaces all the pain.**

In the quiet moments of the too long night, Steve wishes he was a lesser man. Someone who could put himself and his friends first and not feel so guilty and honor bound. He wishes he could just take Bucky and run. Run away from the war and violence, back to Brooklyn where they could live out normal, quiet lives. But that’s not their fate. They’ve lost themselves to the grinding machine that is the army. They’re just numbers now, more toy soldiers on the conveyor belt shipping off to fight the good fight. **Bit by bit, torn apart.** They **never win but the battle wages on, for toy soldiers.**

Steve pulls himself up from his perch, wanting to take a run around the perimeter of their makeshift campsite in hopes of burning off his mood. The activity will help him keep sharp longer too. He’s going to crash soon, he knows. The longest he’s gone without sleep was four days and that was with far more rest beforehand than he’s had. _Two more hours,_ he promises himself. Two more hours and he’ll wake up Dugan to take over watch until the rest of the men wake. That should buy him four hours of rest until they’re all up and ready to mobilize again. 

The icy wind bites at his face but he pushes farther, faster. It won’t cause any lasting damage thanks to the serum so Steve pushes the discomfort and pain out his mind. That was the thing they didn’t warn him about the serum. Sure he’s bulletproof and can heal from almost anything, but it still hurts when it happens. A bullet to the leg is still a bullet to leg. 

Steve all but falls back onto his perch after the run. He can feel the burning in his calves all the way up to his thighs. It’s comforting in a twisted way, his body aching along with his mind. The moon is sinking lower in the sky, Steve watches for a while, losing track of time. It’s almost dawn when he finally shuffles off to wake Dugan. The older soldier grumbles at Steve for letting him sleep so long and assures Steve they’ll wake him before they’re ready to move out.

Back in his tent on the poor excuse for a pallet bed with its threadbare blanket, Steve finally lets his body rest. The tension slowly dissipating from his shoulders and the tense clench of his jaw. His mind is rebelling still, an endless stream of anxiety fluttering past. _If only I had gotten there sooner. If I had run a little faster. I shouldn’t be in charge. I’ve already lost too many good men._ _**The next one’s gonna be me.**_ Steve scrubs at his face, futilely trying to clear the anxious thoughts from his mind. His body and mind still at war he rolls over on his side, arms wrapped around himself as if he was still a ninety pound boy back in Brooklyn, trying to comfort himself quietly in the dark. 

The night wears on and finally, as the first rays of dawn break on the horizon, the tired soldier rests.


End file.
